


Comfort

by thenakednymph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Depressed Lance, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21978979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: Keith comes back from a Blade mission to an empty castle. He finds a devastated Lance crumpled over in the hallway.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 298
Collections: Softyetnot





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> I had a really shitty day at work so this is a much needed post.

When Keith’s shuttle docks with the ship he expects to be greeted by at least _someone._ Instead the bay is empty. 

“O-kay.” He looks around curiously, shouldering his bag and stepping out into the hall. It’s as abandoned as the docking bay. 

He takes the hall closest to Blue’s hangar, making his way up to the deck where his old room is. He never gets there.

Instead he finds a trail of armor scattered down the hall ahead of him. A helmet, vambraces a few yards past, both halves of a breastplate. They stretch out ahead of him like breadcrumbs, ash and soot streaking the white plates, darkening the bits of blue identifying the pieces as Lance’s. There’s a dark splatter across the greaves and Keith kneels to inspect it. The moment he realizes it’s blood Keith is sprinting the rest of the way down the hall. 

“Lance!” 

He nearly trips over him as he rounds the corner, barely managing to leap over the crumpled form of the blue paladin, hitting the ground in a roll. When he finally looks up again he sees Lance strangling a sob, teeth buried around two knuckles to keep silent. His shoulders are shaking and tears stream down his cheeks as he presses his face to the damp metal. 

“Lance?” 

He flinches at Keith’s voice, his whole body rocking with his sobs. 

Keith crawls forward, taking in the sight of Lance. He’s streaked with sweat and more of that dark ash, tears dripping from his chin. Other than that and being in nothing but his undersuit he looks unscathed. 

“Hey,” Keith says softly, scooting forward and reaching for the hand Lance has lodged between his teeth. Because as unharmed as Lance looks, Keith knows he’s far from okay. Something's happened. 

“I need you to let go okay?” 

Lance shakes his head violently and Keith worries he’s broken the skin beneath the material. 

“Please, Blue, you’re hurting yourself.” 

The nickname only makes him cry harder and Keith feels a rising sense of panic as he gently presses his fingers into Lance’s palm. 

“ _Por favor, Lance,"_ he tries, hoping the Spanish will get through to him. “I need you to let go.” 

Lance finally lets his jaw drop, his hand falling free and Keith catches it. The sound that finally escapes Lance will haunt him for years. 

Keith has never heard someone sound heartbroken before, never heard them wuther the way Lance is doing now. The high keening cry that leaves him gives Keith chills. 

Strings of saliva fall from Lance’s mouth as Keith carefully pulls Lance’s hand away, sob after sob leaving him until it’s nothing but a scream. A never ending shriek of pain and heartbreak, stripping his throat raw. 

It kicks Keith’s fight or flight response into overdrive and he pulls Lance’s glove back with shaking fingers. 

There are rings of deep purple bite marks all across Lance’s hand and fingers where he’d gagged himself and Keith feels like he’s been stabbed. 

Lance’s distress washes over him and Keith feels like he’s drowning. 

“It’s okay.” He pulls Lance into his lap, cradling him as he sobs, thick and wet. His whole body is wracked with it and Keith worries for a moment he’s going to cry himself sick. 

“I’m here,” he whispers, slipping his arms around Lance and holding him. 

Lance clings to him, nails dragging over his chest plate, tearing open against the seams. 

Keith holds him tighter and tighter until he’s sure there will be bruises later but it’s the only thing that makes Lance stop shaking. 

“It’ll pass,” he whispers, lips pressed to Lance’s ear. “This won’t be forever. It’s only a moment in time.” 

He holds Lance in a cage made from his own body until he’s sore, muscles aching with the effort. He only begins to relax as Lance falls still, easing up on the pressure until they’re just leaning against one another. Lance’s sobs have quieted to small hiccuping cries and Keith sits back, his spine aching. 

“Hey,” he says gently, sweeping Lance’s hair back. “What happened?” 

Lance winces, squeezing his eyes shut and hiding against Keith’s throat again. 

“Okay.” Keith doesn’t push, just scoops Lance into his arms and carries him all the way to his room. 

The rest of the castle is as empty as the bay. There’s something haunted about the space. Keith knows whatever happened on their last mission must have been bad if all the paladins have gone into hiding. 

He carries Lance into the bathroom, setting him on the edge of the counter and taking one of the packages of wipes nearby. He keeps in contact with Lance the entire time, pulling one of the wipes free and carefully running it over mottled skin. 

Lance sniffles and Keith starts humming to fill the silence. He hopes it’ll distract Lance from whatever images he’s seeing behind his eyelids. 

Keith wipes away the tears and sweat and ash before carefully unzipping the undersuit. Lance stares blankly past him, moving stiffly as Keith needs but not responding.

Keith finishes stripping Lance out of the suit before leading him into the shower. Lance follows him like a zombie, letting Keith guide him beneath the spray. He stands in place as Keith carefully washes his hair and then his body, rinsing away the layer of sweat. 

He stands in the shower still fully dressed, the water soaking his hair and the hood of his Marmora armor but he doesn’t care. He’s too worried about Lance to mind. 

They don’t linger. When Lance is suitably washed Keith turns off the water, stepping out into the bathroom. He wraps a towel around Lance before guiding him back to the counter and using another to dry his hair. He grabs a pair of sweats and a shirt from the other room before carefully applying a moisturizer to Lance’s abused skin where he’d been crying. 

The bruises on his hand are dark and angry but there’s nothing Keith can do about them. 

Instead he strips out of his soaked armor, borrowing a pair of sweats and tucks Lance into bed, curling up behind him. 

He’s stopped crying but Keith isn’t sure if that’s progress or not. 

“I’m here,” he whispers, one arm beneath Lance’s head on the pillow, the other wrapped around his waist and tucked under his ribs. 

“You’re not alone,” he promises.

Lance lets out a small sob and Keith squeezes him closer. A moment later he’s turning around in Keith’s arms, startling him. 

Lance scoots lower in the bed, pressing his face to Keith’s chest and cries, tangling them together. 

It takes Keith a moment to adjust and then he’s wrapping his arms around Lance and pressing his nose to his hair. 

“It’ll be okay,” he promises. “We’ll get through this.” 

Lance cries harder and Keith holds him close. “You’re not alone, Lance. You’re not alone.” 


End file.
